Tolerate You
by The Neliel Tu
Summary: Grimmjow and Neliel. Grimmjow just can't tolerate Neliel, and she insists on tagging along. How does it end up? Chaos, or what? GrimmNel, heavy sarcasm.
1. Tolerate You

_(A/N: Okay, just a quick warning. This is nothing like my other GrimmNel pieces, this is them being much more IC. I swear. _

_It's very sarcastic, and bitter, but in the end it resolves, like every piece of music. Yeah. Sure. I just wanted to write something like this, and GrimmNel seemed right for it. I don't know why, but I enjoyed writing this, and maybe you'll enjoy reading it...maybe. _

_Also, it was kind of inspired by a Nine Inch Nails song naturally and that would be...Demon Seed, I think...well, here it is.) _

**Tolerate You**

_I've been trying…to t-t-t-tolerate you. _

A weak smile danced on her lips. (Rather unconvincing, but still, there it was.)

He glared at her, and between gasps for breath and short laughs, he tried to tell her he wanted her dead.

(Of course, he wanted to fuck her over and over again first, but she was hard to tolerate.)

He narrowed bright blue eyes at the offending arrancar, scowling at her darkly.

The unconvincing smile darkened on her lips. She folded her arms before her breasts, let them fall, folded them again, stretched them; let them rest at her sides.

(It wasn't easy to tell exactly how nervous this whole situation made Neliel. But naturally, Grimmjow could tell.)

He let his steps fall heavily as he moved toward her. "I'm gonna fucking…" dark eyes widened at the strange, slender hand that had somehow found a way to impale his stomach.

(Of course, his first thought was that she had simply shoved said hand through his hollow hole. Then the pain settled in, and he knew it was otherwise.)

"Excuse me?" she returned, her expression settling into a high level of smug.

"Gonna…puke…" he fell backwards, her hand sliding from his body with sickening slurp sound effects, complete with blood spray. (Though they did not really sicken her, he was disgusted on several levels. His manliness had been taken down quite a few pegs by that action, along with his reaction.)

She wanted to laugh as he rolled over onto his stomach, desperately holding his mouth as his face turned a sickly green hue.

"That's not expected." She mused, a frown furrowing her brow.

(Then again, her hand had just been in his stomach, and usually, that was enough to send any one, man and woman alike, into nausea.)

She was rebuffed by his retching, and the crimson tinted vomit that seeped into the once pure white sand. (At least some color was brought into the world.)

"How…typical." She changed her mind.

"Fuck off." He couldn't tolerate the bitch. (It wasn't that he wouldn't sleep with her, because he totally would.) Every thing about her made him want to kill her.

The biggest thing was the fact that she wouldn't take his hints to leave him the hell alone. She just had to cling to someone, and it just had to be him. (And with no promise for sex, he didn't like the deal. He was starting to understand why Nnoitora was such a prick.)

Yeah, there was no way he was going to let the little bitch tag along much longer.

Her intentions were really quite different from his.

(She wouldn't be dying so soon, with so much left for her to fulfill.)

He just couldn't tolerate her presence, and the strange feeling of her breath on the back of his neck sometimes.

(And he'd tried raping her several times, but he found the childish innocence that glinted in her eyes every single fucking time far too disturbing for him to continue. Of course, his twisted honor did not help him much, either.)

The most irritating part of the entire ordeal was the fact that her physical strength was far greater than his.

(Because it wasn't emasculating at all to have his ass kicked by a girl, who was not only smaller than him, but should have been weaker.)

She loved to feign innocence all the times he'd tried to get in her proverbial pants. After all, not only was it a major turn off, but he was incredibly frustrated with her for it.

Her favorite thing to do was to tease him with her body, while continuing to feign innocence.

(A simple, "accidental," shake of her hips drove him crazy, as did a simple brush of her breasts against his back, and she knew it well.)

Little did she know he liked to tease her in return. (Though one could hardly call his smart assed remarks teasing.)

She loved to prove her physical strength to him. There was nothing more satisfying than bringing him to his knees, begging for her to "Please get your hand out of my hollow hole right the fuck now…"

She did not always remove her hand "Right the fuck now," but eventually she would. She was a bit charitable, after all.

(Though one could hardly call abusing Grimmjow mentally, physically and emotionally charitable.)

And yet, Grimmjow still wanted to fuck her. (Even though he could not tolerate her, the thought of fucking her harder than he'd ever fucked anyone excited him.)

Though it seemed strange, as much as the two hated each other, the feeling called love was beginning to bloom. (Though it did so slowly, for it was attempting to bloom in a scenario colder than the darkest night in the South Pole.)

Neliel feigned unawareness while Grimmjow ignored the fuzzy feeling.

(Inevitably, they would have to face it, come to terms with it, and admit that sex was the best course of action.)

-End-


	2. Behave Myself

_It keeps growing_

_I can feel it breathe_

_I have been trying to behave myself_

He had tried to behave, really. (If behaving constituted snapping and snarling at the ever-prideful Neliel at every turn, then he had truly been trying.)

Neliel's holier-than-thou attitude grated on him. (How could she be holy when the smell of her revved up sex was far more distinct than the scent of rotting meat?)

That stupid, fuzzy as fuck feeling was growing. (He could feel it breathing, when Neliel drew close to simply mock him.)

Her arguments did nothing to sway him. He could never stray from the path he had taken.

If he had to name the stupid, fuzzy feeling, he'd call it love. (And he fucking hated the feeling with every fiber of his being.)

Neliel had to be unconscious, unaware around him. (Her eyes never once drifted down when he sported the fruit of her seduction, a certain stretching of the pants.)

Grimmjow could not figure out just what Neliel saw in him. (Of course, it was hard to say what she had seen in Nnoitora.)

The feelings she made him feel (because he knew that he wasn't making himself feel those fucked up feelings) were awkward as hell, and he hated them.

More than once he'd whispered a threat in her ear, only to have her body pinned against his a moment later, his back flat on the ground. (And it was then, and only then, that he realized he could never defeat the green haired lady.)

Those were the times that he was hers, and hers alone. (How could he belong to anyone else when she manipulated his body while barely lifting a finger?)

Grimmjow had to admit that the first time he'd fucked the bitch he'd found something so euphoric that nothing could get him higher. (Not even a battle could bring him the ecstasy that the woman brought him.)

The thing he hated the most was the fact that she insisted on cuddling afterward, claiming that she would freeze to death if she didn't. (Secretly, Grimmjow liked the feel of her silky skin against his muscles, and the trails her hands made soothed him to sleep.)

Still, he found her irritating, nothing more than a weak, foolish nuisance. (Like a tumor throbbing in his head, toxic, malicious, and requiring surgery to remove.)

What he wanted to know was why he couldn't get rid of her. (Granted, she was providing him with willing sex, and that obligated him to keep her alive.)

He really had been trying to behave himself. (The angry red marks on Neliel's buttocks were just proof that he needed something to take his anger out on, and that just happened to be the target.)

Neliel took Grimmjow's abuse in silence. (During the sex she was free to scream endlessly, and she took advantage of the opportunity, often deafening Grimmjow.)

Her favorite thing about the entire affair had to be the sex, and the violence. (Neliel was open about her masochism, but not so much about her streak of sadism.) She could never tell Grimmjow that it really got her off, his pain, that is.

He was often seething with animosity towards her, and though he reminded her of Nnoitora somewhat, she learned quickly what the aforementioned animosity stemmed from. (That being, of course, Grimmjow's inability to kill the woman he was fucking.)

She smiled sweetly, innocently, as she walked toward him, sending a swift kick to the center of his chest to send him hurtling gracefully to the ground, on his back. (She could have thought of a dozen other violent ways to accomplish the same task; however, she found that the one she had chosen suited her well.)

With barely a sound or batting of her lashes, she had relieved Grimmjow and herself of all articles of clothing. (She had come to relish the surprise written all over Grimmjow's face every time she did something of this nature to him.)

Her hands needed to perform no stimulation, for Grimmjow was already hard. (He couldn't understand why the hell he lusted after the bitch, when all she ever did was talk down to him. He also couldn't understand why he thought that being talked down to was sexy as hell.)

She mounted him fearlessly, her chin held high, her eyes cool and distant. (He couldn't say where exactly she was, but for some reason he hoped she was near him.)

She looked through him, rather than at him, but he pretended not to notice. He growled as she held her body out of reach of his hands, bringing her hips down upon his manhood, stiff and straight in the air. She made no sound to display her pleasure, nor did he.

(It was secretly a battle of wills. The first one to make any sound in pleasure lost.)

Her nails dug into his flesh to create long trails of bright red blood. (The fact that she made him bleed made him want to kill her, to fuck her into submission, to do _something_ to wipe that smug smile off of her face.)

The only thing he could do was reach up as though to smack her face, but it turned out to be futile. (Her face was too high, damn her, her long torso, her beautiful, long, sweaty, hot, writhing body keeping the head far, far above him. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_! He hated that.)

The worst part was the fact that she made him come. (It was also the best part, and the only part besides the sex in general that he enjoyed.)

The other worst part was that she flung her body on him once she had finished, and the strength of her hold on him was too strong for him to struggle out of it. (He didn't even attempt to free himself anymore, for that only resulted in pain, and he was pretty damn sure he was no masochist.)

Grimmjow supposed if he couldn't get rid of the Neliel shaped tumor, he'd somehow have to find a way to live with her. (If the sex was on a curve of improvement, he thought he just might be able to find a way to deal with her impossibility.)

Facts aside, Grimmjow and Neliel knew that they were in love with each other. (The main reason they stayed together; however, was because they knew that eventually, they would lead to each other's end.)

-End- (For real, this time!!)


End file.
